Autophobia
by Avis Winchester
Summary: Sometimes your best isn't good enough. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, everything falls apart.


Sometimes your best isn't good enough. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, everything falls apart.

I had always been a loner. Who would want to hang out with a freak, right?

t wasn't my fault I had no friends. I did try, but it never worked out. My appearance prevented me from making any type of relationship.

have a rare mutation called albinism. I'm one of the more severe cases, giving me red eyes, a white complexion, and white hair. It was something I was born with. I hated it.

Most days were spent reading and studying. I didn't really need to study of course. Having photographic memory did have its perks. Having no friends, however, limited my hobbies. I got over it quickly, though. Why waste my time on people who only care for appearance?

My parents were naturally concerned because of this. I paid it no mind. I was structurally sound. I did not need people. Not socializing did not limit my talents. I was what people called a prodigy. Of course, after my parents died I was called a trouble maker.

From the time I was 9 I lived in an orphanage. I jumped around a lot. Orphanage to orphanage. Foster home to foster home. My looks, intelligence, and attitude made sure people didn't want to keep me around for long.

It wasn't hard to figure out what made people tick. For most people it was family, others were secretes. Find it and you controlled that person. It was one of the first ways I learned to make money from. Everyone wanted blackmail on others. It was a good business.

Acting was another way I made money. Strange isn't it? I didn't actually act though. Someone needed a kid to get close to their rival? I did it. Needed a kid who could play another child? I was it. Need a witness so you could walk free? People usually paid me. It was also a good tool to con people out of their money.

By the time I was 14 Scotland Yard had a warrant out for my arrest. It wasn't until I was 21 did they finally catch me. This was also around the time I met Sherlock Holmes.

It was stupid of me really. I knew the the exchange was a trap. A little ploy that the Scotland Yard had tried to pull before. But I was getting bored. I wanted to feel something. Whether it was fear, anger, or excitement. My usual haunts weren't enough to satisfy me anymore. Going to the ambush seemed like a rational decision. Well, at the time of course.

That's how I ended up in the back of a police cruiser. I wasn't too worried. I knew I could get out easily enough; however, the scene outside was too interesting to even think about leaving.

It was a murder scene. But that wasn't what intrigued me. It was the man arguing with a detective. Sherlock Holmes. I could faintly hear the conversation.

"Sherlock! The only one qualified here to be your assistant is Anderson!" The graying detective shouted.

"Anderson isn't even able to qualify as a detective, Lestdes. I need someone competent, not some moron who will get in my way!" Sherlock argued back.

"It's Lestrade and there-"

Sherlock cut him off, "He'll do." He was pointing straight at me.

Lestrade shook his head, "Wait. What? No Sherlock he's a criminal. I can't just let him out! Do you know how long it took to even catch him!"

Sherlock ignored him and walked up to the car. Leaning down, he began studying my features. I decided to play a little game.

I knew many things about Holmes. Like his deductions. And I also knew that he had never encountered someone like me.

I let him get all the information from my current state before I changed. This startled him immensely. Moments ago to him I was just a college student who had a habit of twisting his hands when nervous. Now I was acting like a bright and curious child. I could see he didn't know what to think of it. I giggled. This was the most fun I've had in years.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at me before turning a plucking the car keys out of the officer's hands who was meant to watch me.

Both the officer and Lestrade protested at this. Sherlock ignored them once again.

"Sherlock! If you unlock that door I will have to arrest you for attempting to let a criminal escape!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Oh, do shut up. You know you can't arrest me. You need my help solving your cases."

The man stood there silently.

Sherlock unlocked the car and allowed me to step out. I heard him growl as I decide to change my body language again. Now I was a slightly childish 21 year old, which honestly wasn't too far from the truth.

Without Sherlock unlocking the cuffs I slipped out of them and let them hit the ground. Lestrade stared at me in shock. I spoke for the first time.

"It's rude to stare at people you know. At least that's what my mother told me." I turned to Sherlock, "Thanks, mate. It was gettin quite stuffy in there."

"How did you do that?" He asked.

I scratched the back of head, now a shy child, "I don't know what you mean mister."

His eyes lit up in excitement, "This is amazing. Your body is saying that you are nothing but a introverted child, but you're clearly over 20! This is much more interesting than the body over there!"

I smiled and changed for the last time. I was just me. I knew he couldn't read anything. I grew having to change at a moments notice and my body reflected that.

"You said you needed an assistant, right? I can do this one time." I said walking over to the body.

It was funny. Instead is focusing on the body, Sherlock kept looking at me trying to figure me out. It sent a thrill through my body. I couldn't wait for what was to come.

The taller man suddenly stood up and turned to Lestrade, "His wife killed him."

He turned to leave and gestured for me to follow. I did.

"Wait! Sherlock! What do mean the wife did it?!" There was a pause, "Hey! You can't take him with you! He's in police custody!"

Sherlock stopped and went to answer him. I did instead.

"It's obvious that the wife did it. If you look at his left hand you can see the wedding band missing. On his cheek there are scratches caused by fake nails and with how much money the man made it isn't hard to say that his wife could afford them. There's also the fact that he was cheating and if the man is cheating it's almost always the wife who killed him." I turned back around and started to walk off, "And one more thing. I'm not going with him."

A car pulled up as I said this and I got in the back. I waved at the police and sent a kiss off toward my new favorite toy. The next few months were going to be so much fun.

It was a month later when I saw Sherlock again. I was walking through Saint Bart's trying to find the morgue. Teeth sold quite a bit on the market. I had heard Sherlock's voice from down the hall. It got clearer as I walked closer.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Now why would he be asking that?

A distinctly male voice responded, "Sorry?"

I walked up to the door and pushed it open. No one noticed my entrance.

"Which was it – Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock looked up at the man and saw me right behind him. His eyes lit up.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know ...?" The man asks.

I decided to answer, scaring the one who asked and the fat man next to him, "It's your tan line and the way you're walking."

A lady walks in behind me and hands Sherlock a cup of coffee. I ignore their conversation. Sherlock hands the man his phone back.

"How do you feel about the violin?"

As the conversation continued I realized that my life was about to change. It was already changing because of my first encounter with Holmes and now with the newly dubbed John Watson, it had flipped upside down.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street." He walks through the door before poking his back in again, "Well? Are you coming?"

I nod and walk over to him. I wave goodbye to John and the fat man.

One the way to the morgue to grab Sherlock's ridding crop, he began to ask questions.

"You are wanted by the Scotland Yard. Why?"

Latching on to his arm and ignoring the way he tenses up, I answered, "Gambling, murder, blackmail, the whole shin-dig. Why do you help the Scotland Yard?"

"I'm a Consulting Detective and they're a bunch of morons. Is that naturally how you look or is it an intimidation tactic?"

"I was born like this, but I do use it to intimidate people. You've been looking for me." It wasn't a question.

He peered down at my smaller figure, "Yes. And I couldn't find a single thing one you. Not even my network could."

I giggled, "Oh, you mean your groupies of orphans and homeless? Your not the only one who controls them."

It was silent for the rest of the walk. When we got to the morgue I began doing what I had originally set out to do. After the first bag of teeth I spoke.

"You're not going to report me?"

Sherlock shook his head, "Why waste my time when I know you won't get caught? It would also ruin my time to figure you out."

I yanked on a molar. They were always the hardest to get out.

"Sorry Mr. Holmes, but you'll never figure me out."

"A wide smile took over his face, "I've always liked a challenge."

:-:

First Sherlock fic. Sorry if it seems a bit rushed or everywhere. This may or may not turn into boy x boy, so if you don't like that you've been warned. /p


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